


Babysitting

by Bold_Cherry



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bold_Cherry/pseuds/Bold_Cherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon is four years old, and Dallon is forced to babysit him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. It is currently 5.30 am. Goodnight.

“But moooom!” Dallon whined, crossing his arms and pouting.   
“No “but”’s, Dallon, I told Grace you’d do it.”  
“You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to!”  
His mom rasied an eyebrow at him, “You’re telling me you don’t want to make eighty bucks on watching a four year old for a day?”  
Okay, woman had a point, but _still_.  
“But it’s _Brendon_!”  
She raised both eyebrows now, as if to encourage him to keep going.  
“He’s like, difficult or whatever.” Dallon mumbled, crossing his arms again and shrugging.  
His mom laughed and ruffled his hair as she walked by him into the kitched, totally because she knew he _hated_ it. His hands shot up to fix it again.  
“He’s four, Dallon, and you’re sixteen, I think you can handle him.”  
“But I don’t fucking want to!”  
Mrs. Weekes spun around, now looking thouroughly pissed off, and Dallon immediatley regret his words.  
“Dallon James Weekes, you will do as I say, and that is babysitting Brendon for a few hours on Friday! You are doing Grace and Boyd a favor, and it would do you good to get out of the house for one night.”  
As any other teenager, Dallon knew that the use of his full name meant trouble, but that still didn’t stop him from mumbling, “But they have, like, a million kids, why can’t one of them do it?”  
His mom shook her head and started pulling bowls out of cabinets and food out of the fridge, “Because all of them are away in college, you know that.”  
Dallon was out of arguments and decided to not help her make dinner, and instead sulk in his room. This was stupid. Who even decides to have another kid when the youngest of the exisiting bunch starts high school? The Uries were weird as fuck, dude. But Mrs. Urie was his mom’s best friend and he’d grown up knowing them and bla bla bla. But seriously, that four year old Brendon kid was literally the most energetic kid Dallon had ever seen. He had younger siblings too, but did not remember any of them being as all-over-the-place as this kid. He groaned and buried his face in his pillow. Goddammit.

When he called Matt to tell him why he couldn’t come over for their usual Friday-games-session and Matt laughed for a full minute, Dallon wasn’t sure who he wanted to kill more; Himself or his mom. He was already sort of a loser for spending his weekends playing videogames with his best friend, but being forced by his _mom_ to babysit just topped it off.

 

“And there’s mac’n’cheese in the fridge, just heat it in the microwave, and you should be good to go.” Mr. Urie smiled at him, finishing off his long list of where things were and what Brendon needed at what times and how to do this and that and Dallon was already _really_ tired at the thought of watching him from now, just past 4 pm, and the next eight hours. Mr. and Mrs. Urie were going out, apparently, and his mom had kindly offered that Dallon looked after their four year old for the day, despite not having asked him at all. He’s still pissed about that.

Mrs. Urie came down the stairs, already dressed up, carrying the toddler on her hip. Brendon’s black hair was sticking up in every which direction, his eyes were wide and brown, and he still had chubby cheeks. Anyone would call him an adorable little boy, but Dallon had already known Brendon for four years, and knew that the kid definitley had ADHD or something. He was absoultely unable to sit still, constantly running around or nagging someone for attention. He’d taken a liking to Dallon early on, and would cling to him everytime he was over, no matter how much Dallon tried to shake him off. Which was probably why both his mom and Brendon’s mom had thought he’d be an awesome babysitter.

“Dally, Dally, Dally!” Brendon exclaimed excitedly, bouncing in his mother’s arms and reaching out for Dallon, as soon as he spotted him. Dallon tried very hard not to roll his eyes. That nickname, caused by Brendon’s inability to pronounce his name, was going to get extremely annoying within the next thirty minutes or so. Mrs. Urie laughed and deattached Brendon from her hip, handing him over. Dallon didn’t have time to react before he had an armful of excited toddler. He shifted Brendon to his hip, the same way Mrs. Urie had carried him. The kid was still bouncing up and down, clapping and squealing and giggling. Dallon had no idea what the hell was so funny, and he probably wouldn’t ever find out either. Also his arms were getting tired. Brendon was heavy, okay.

“Be good for Dallon, okay, darling?” Mrs. Urie said and kissed the top of Brendon’s head. Brendon was sitting in his high chair by the table, already in the middle of his fourth drawing, and looked up at his mother with even wider eyes than usual, “Where’re you going, mommy?” he asked, a slightly confused look on his face. Grace smiled softly at him, “To Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s house, baby, I told you that.”  
Brendon blinked, “To Spencer?”  
Mrs. Urie shook her head, “No, sweetie, Spencer won’t be there.”  
Brendon looked at her for a second or two, before returning to his drawing. Grace sighed and smiled fondly, straightening up to walk towards the door. She smiled at Dallon, “He’s been quiet today, just feed him and get him to sleep, and you got the night to yourself.” she said. Dallon nodded, smiled and led them to the door.

He plopped down on a chair opposite Brendon, tilting his head and looking at the kid. He was totally consumed in his drawing, apparently dead-set on using up his blue sharpie. After a while, Brendon put down the drawing tool and held the paper out to Dallon. “For you!” he giggled with a gigantic, toothy smile. Dallon took it, smiled politely at him and tried to figure out what it was supposed to be. To him, it was just a lot of colors and shapes on paper, but Brendon obviously intended for it to represent something. He eventually gave up and asked, “What is it?”  
Brendon leaned over the table, almost crawling up on it, “It’s you! And me, look!” he said excitedly, pointing at some circles and stripes on the paper.  
“Ohh, I see.” Dallon said, squinting. He really couldn’t make out anything, but Brendon grinned happily at him and jumped down from his high chair, going over to Dallon and pulling at his shirt, “Come onnnn!”.

Brendon reached out for Dallon’s hand, and Dallon didn’t really feel like he could do anything other than let him take it, as he led him into his room. The walls were painted sky blue, lined with small, white clouds. The floor was a mess of toys, and the bed/crib-fusion had definitley been used by older siblings. Brendon let go of his hand and sat down on the floor, reaching for a plastic police car, an ambulance and a firetruck. He looked up at Dallon and commanded, “Sit!”.

As Dallon gingerly sat down on the floor, Brendon handed him the ambulance.  
“Here, you can have this! Trick’s always that one.” he said, and started pushing the firetruck and the police car around in circles in front of him, making the appropriate “weeooo”-sounds. “Trick?” Dallon asked. Brendon grinned and looked up at him to say, “Patrick! From pre-school!”.

Dallon felt a little stupid, pushing the toy ambulance around the floor, but Brendon was very into it and hey, whatever kept the kid busy. It didn’t last for more than a good fifteen minutes though. Brendon threw the plastic vehicles aside and looked at Dallon with huge aside. “Movies?” he asked.  
Dallon blinked, “What?”  
“Watch a movie?” Brendon replied, bouncing up and down where he was sitting. Dallon glanced at his watch. Dinner would probably be appropriate by now, if he had any intention of getting Brendon into bed before 8 pm.  
“Um, how about dinner first, then movie?” he tried.  
Brendon pouted at him, “Movie now!” he demanded.   
Dallon sighed, “No, dinner now.” and got up from the floor. Brendon got up as well, and decided to stomp all the way to the kitchen, following Dallon, and shouting, “Dally-dumb!”.  
Dallon had thought Brendon was pretty adorable when he was born, and when was one, and even when he was two, but as soon as he’d started developing a mind of his own, and learned how to talk (at least to some point) the adorable had kind of worn off. But Dallon had to admit that the pout Brendon was sporting right now was a little cute. He rolled his eyes before crouching down in front of Brendon, trying to level with the kid, and said in a soft tone, “How about we watch a movie while we eat dinner?”  
Brendon’s face lit up for a second, only to deflate again right after, “But mommy says I’m not ‘lowed to.” he said, going back to pouting. Dallon couldn’t help but grin at him, “Well, what if we don’t tell your mommy?”  
Brendon studied his face for a moment, before giggling and putting a finger to his lips, “Secret!” he whispered excitedly. Dallon pressed his index finger to his own lips and whispered, “Secret.” back at him.

Dallon was impressed by Brendon’s ability to get food _everywhere_ without even trying. It was on his clothes, on the couch, on the floor, on the table and on the plate. The kid looked happy and content though, covered in mac’n’cheese and humming along to the songs in Aladdin, the movie he’d picked out. Dallon shook his head and got up to find a washcloth, to wipe off Brendon and whatever else had been exposed to his food-escapade.

Getting Brendon in his pj’s was a nightmare. And a marathon. Equal of both, because the boy refused to put on pants, and instead decided that running around the house was much more fun. Dallon chased after him, heaving for air. He finally, _finally_ , caught the kid and threw him over his shoulder. Brendon was laughing loudly and hitting his back with his fists, but Dallon was determined to get the kid to bed now.

Brushing someone else’s teeth was strange and hard, and he was honestly a little scared he was gonna poke the toothbrush down Brendon’s throat and make him gag or something.

Dallon silently thanked whatever higher power was up there that Brendon knew how to “go pee-pee”, as he expressed it, himself, because Dallon might have watched a Disney-movie and played with toy cars with the kid, but he was not ready for helping someone pee. Even if they were four, and pretty cute in Ninja Turtles-pyjamas.

Apparently, Brendon was worn out, because when Dallon finally got him to lie down in his bed/crib (what were those called anyway?) he pretty much went out like a light. Dallon sighed happidly and plopped down on the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes.

He was woken up by loud wailing coming from upstairs. The livingroom and the crying didn’t quite add up in his head untill after a few seconds, and he shot up from the sofa and ran up the stairs when he realized what the crying was.

Brendon was standing at the top of the stairs, tears and snot streaming down his face. Dallon kneeled in front of him, “Brendon, what’s wrong?”  
Brendon sniffled, “I want my mommy!”  
Dallon felt his heart break a little. The kid just looked so _sad_ , huge, wet, eyes and pouting lips. “Your mommy isn’t here.” he forced out. Brendon sobbed loudly, and Dallon picked him up, holding him close to his chest. Brendon was clinging to his shirt, sobbing and sniffling. Dallon carried him into his bedroom and tried to put him down in his bed, but Brendon wouldn’t let go of him, and kept making protesting sounds everytime Dallon bent over the railing of the bed and tried to lay him down. He eventually gave up, and picked up the duvet with one hand, wrapping it around Brendon, and turning around to carry him downstairs.

He fell down on the couch, and Brendon curled up on his chest. Dallon tightened his arms around him and lightly rocked him from side to side, shushing him and trying his best to get him to calm down.  
“Sing.” Brendon said in a tiny, thick voice.  
Dallon blinked. Uhm. Yeah, okay, sure. He couldn’t remember any childrens-songs though. Or lullabies. He did write his own songs though, and even though he didn’t think much of them, it might be enough to get Brendon to calm down and fall asleep. Dallon at least hoped so, as he silently started singing.

 

Mrs. Urie picked Brendon up from Dallon’s chest, smiling fondly. Mr. Urie put a hand on Dallon’s shoulder, lightly shaking it to wake him up, “Time to go home, son.” he said with a soft smile, as Dallon blinked his eyes open.


End file.
